


the restless waves

by susiecarter



Category: Aquaman (2018), DC Extended Universe, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Extra Treat, F/F, First Meetings, Getting to Know Each Other, Hopeful Ending, Interest at first sight, Kissing, Post-Justice League (2017), Pre-Aquaman (2018), Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26225455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiecarter/pseuds/susiecarter
Summary: She hadn't swum far, not yet, but she was already much further out to sea than surface-dwellers usually went except when they were in boats; and much deeper than they went except when they were in submarines. She'd thought her eyes must be mistaken in seeing the shadow of a figure in the water above her.But they hadn't been. She looked more closely, and yes, there: a woman. A woman, swimming.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Mera (DCU)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 76
Collections: Fifth DCEU Fanworks Exchange





	the restless waves

**Author's Note:**

> I love this pairing so much, I couldn't resist writing you a little pre-relationship treat, Cruria—sorry it's late, and I hope you've had a great DCEU-Ex. :D
> 
> This is set in a murky space post-JL but pre-Aquaman; Mera's psyching herself up to track Arthur down in Maine (as she does at the beginning of the Aquaman movie) but hasn't done it yet. I am playing a bit fast and loose with the timeline/order of events, so please be generous and roll with it. The title's adapted from the poem [Tides](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50293/tides) by Helen Hunt Jackson, because there are never too many transparently sea-themed titles, right? Right? /o\

The shores of Maine didn't look welcoming to Mera.

Then again, no shore would have. Land that lay uncovered—it was unsettling. All the people of Xebel called the sea home; but Mera's power, the way water moved with her and did as she bade, made the prospect of stepping out of it, leaving it behind, still more unnerving than it might otherwise have been.

There was water even on the surface, she told herself. There were storms, rain. Rivers, streams.

And she would have to make her way across land someday soon, if she meant to find Arthur.

She had to find Arthur.

She'd hoped he might come back of his own free will, after Steppenwolf. After he had defended them—defended them when Orm could not, and retrieved the mother box that had been taken, and returned it to its vault. Mera had seen the way the Atlantean court, the nobles of Xebel, had looked at him then; she'd heard the whispers. Those who'd once dismissed Queen Atlanna's bastard son without a second thought were no longer so eager to sneer at the mention of his name. At last, there were those who were willing in earnest to be convinced that Arthur might be worthy of his mother's throne.

But it remained to be seen whether Arthur himself could be counted among their number. For he hadn't come back. And Vulko, Vulko went to him often; but every time Mera pressed him, he insisted it wasn't his place to confront Arthur in such a way.

Which meant that if Mera wished to see it done, she must do it herself.

She floated in the dark water, only the crown of her head, her eyes, breaking the surface of the waves; and she looked at the shore of the place called Maine. It was just as Vulko had described it. He'd said she would need to follow it further, northward, before she'd be able to find Arthur. But Arthur's father lived by the water. Surely that part would be easy.

Mera looked at the land for a long time. And then she closed her eyes, and let herself sink back into the sea.

Soon. She looked up through the water at the dark sky, the dim broken circle of the moon rippling this way and that. There was still a chance this wouldn't be necessary. That Orm would come to his senses, that Father would stop this. That Arthur would come of his own accord, and choose to undertake the quest that could make him king in his own right.

But that chance grew small, and she wouldn't trust her fate to it. Not anymore.

She twisted around in the water, reached out to it with her power until it glowed bright around her, and swam.

Not quickly; not nearly as quickly as she could have. She was in no hurry, after all. In Xebel only tension and silence waited for her—in Atlantis, only the looming prospect of being promised to Orm. Father had said nothing to her yet, but she knew him. He would take the first opportunity that presented itself to make the suggestion, as Orm's intentions made themselves inescapably clear. Orm would be a fool to refuse such an alliance. And Orm was many things, but not a fool.

If it came to that—she wouldn't be able to wait any longer, not then. She would have to act, and quickly, and if it must be to undermine her own father, then it would be—

She slowed, and blinked, and turned.

She hadn't swum far, not yet, but she was already much further out to sea than surface-dwellers usually went except when they were in boats; and much deeper than they went except when they were in submarines. She'd thought her eyes must be mistaken in seeing the shadow of a figure in the water above her.

But they hadn't been. She looked more closely, and yes, there: a woman. A woman, swimming.

Too deep. Surely the woman was too deep. Surface-dwellers were weak, and needed air; they couldn't reach such places without bringing it with them in bottles, wearing masks to pump it into their faces.

But the woman swam in long easy strokes, and stayed under. Mera drifted deeper, let her power go quiet so the water went dark around her, and peered up at the woman. She watched for a time, as the woman moved above her, and in that time the woman didn't rise, didn't surface to breathe.

She wasn't Atlantean, Xebellian. She couldn't be. Except for her surety, the way she cut through the water so unceasingly, she swam like she was from land: pushing with her arms, kicking with her legs. Much, much too slowly. And though they were far from shore for a land-dweller, they were closer to it than any of the people of the sea would venture without a reason. Mera had such a reason, but she knew of no one else who did except for Vulko, and this certainly wasn't Vulko.

Mera would have hesitated longer, would have darted away without allowing herself to be seen, except—except the woman was so strong. She swam without breathing. Whoever or whatever she was, she _couldn't_ be a human.

So after a moment, Mera swam up toward her instead.

Her hair was long and dark, braided up tightly. She wore human clothes, but light ones, well-made, close-fitting, clearly designed to swim in. Her expression was calm, at peace; her eyes were dark, and open, and the moment she saw Mera beneath her, she paused, gathering herself—going still in the water, beginning to sink a little. As if extending a courtesy: as if to suggest she wouldn't make Mera swim all the way to her.

Mera drew closer, slowing. The woman waited for her without impatience. She drifted, and watched Mera, and her gaze was bright with curiosity, her mouth beginning to slant into a silent smile.

Mera swam around her in a swift circle, and then paused in front of her, tilted her head and looked the woman up and down. "Who are you?" she tried.

The woman touched her throat, and shook her head.

So she didn't need to breathe; but she couldn't speak, not in water.

Strange, Mera thought.

And then the woman's smile grew wider, and with a twist of her body, a sudden strong kick, she had darted past Mera and away into the dark water.

Foolish, Mera thought at first. Surely she didn't believe she could escape Mera so easily—

But then perhaps she wasn't trying to. Perhaps Mera had been thinking for so long in terms of plots and schemes, thrones and wars, that she'd forgotten there were other reasons to act.

She curled around in the water, and followed.

It took only a moment's exertion of her power to draw even with the woman; she didn't even need to swim with true speed. The look on the woman's face as Mera's magic lit the water around them—it was brilliant with unabashed wonder, and Mera felt herself smile.

She couldn't remember the last time something had made her smile like that.

They swam together, easy, unhurried. At this pace, Mera discovered, she could more readily feel the push and pull of the water itself around her, the roll of the waves.

She'd lurked in the water looking at Maine in the distance, and hadn't been able to make herself go closer. But following this woman, wishing to know the answers to all the questions she couldn't ask while they were underwater, it was suddenly not so difficult after all to perceive that the shore drew near, and keep going.

They weren't in Maine now. The land was different here. There were cliffs, bluffs, and beneath them narrow sandy beaches. The woman struck out toward them, and Mera followed. The water grew shallow; and Mera braced herself, set her feet upon it in the surface way, and walked up out of the waves.

The woman hadn't gone far—she was still up to the waist in the ocean, turning to look at Mera with that warm and undisguised curiosity, wet braid slung dripping over her shoulder.

"To answer your question," she said, in a low sweet voice, "now that I can—I am Diana."

An answer that only created more questions, Mera thought wryly.

"And you," Diana said, and looked at her closely, her hair and her face, her scalesuit. "You are Xebellian."

Mera narrowed her eyes. No ordinary surfacer could know that. Could they? Some of them knew of Arthur, knew something of where he had come from. But not that much.

"I am Y'Mera Xebella Challa," Mera said, and then, after the woman raised a wry eyebrow, relented: "Mera."

"Mera," Diana repeated, and that slow soft smile began once again to curve the line of her mouth. "Be at ease. Your people's secrets are still secrets, to most. I was taught of the kingdoms of the sea a long, long time ago."

Mera eyed her consideringly. She didn't look old—whether by the standards of the surface or Atlantis and her kin, though Mera was aware those standards differed vastly.

But she spoke as if she were. And there was something in her eyes that made it easy to believe it.

"You aren't one of us," Mera said, pressing, beginning with what was already obvious.

"No," Diana allowed. "My people and yours were allies, before your time—or mine."

Mera couldn't begin to guess what she meant by that. She'd been through the archives of both Atlantis and Xebel backwards and forwards, had pried into centuries of law and history and tradition in search of examples to exploit; in all that time, there had been no allies for the kingdoms that remained beneath the sea except each other.

"And now," she said aloud, "you're—here."

"Here," Diana agreed.

"Taking a swim," Mera said.

Diana smiled wider still. "Taking a swim. It seemed like a fine night for it; I couldn't help myself." She raised an eyebrow again, but the arch of it was gentler this time, not a prod but an invitation. "Surely you can't claim to disagree."

Mera thought about it. About swimming, alone in the water, looking up at the wet broken moon through the waves; relishing the quiet of it, the peace. Knowing that she would find nothing like it in Atlantis, surrounded once again by all that was expected of her, all the responsibilities that were hers.

"I can't," she conceded quietly, and looked away.

By the time she could make herself look back, Diana was watching her, with a mild furrow between her brows. "Come," Diana said, and reached out.

Mera clasped her hand.

They had still been standing in the sea, up to their waists; now they splashed up onto the sand, and Diana sat, drew Mera down beside her. They were well below the tide line, the waves seething up readily against their shins and ankles. As if somehow Diana understood that Mera didn't want to step away and leave the ocean behind entirely.

"So," Diana said, "Y'Mera Xebella Challa—were you, too, taking a swim on a fine night?"

"I suppose I was," Mera said, and looked away again; stretched out her legs before her, and watched the water splash up against the glittering surface of her scalesuit. "There is a decision before me that will mean a great deal, no matter what I choose, no matter which way I go. I am—I hope to be ready for it. I mean to be."

Strange. She'd looked at the surface with such wary eyes. She hadn't liked to think of having to set foot on it, even if that was the only way to reach Arthur. But—

But now, sitting on this beach with Diana, it was also a comfort. To realize there was another world here, a world that knew nothing of Orm or Father, nothing of Atlantis. A world where their power might reach the shore, but no further. Even if it all went wrong, even if the worst should happen, it wouldn't be the end. Atlantis wasn't all there was.

It felt good to know that.

And humans weren't all there were, either, Mera thought. Arthur had fought Steppenwolf, but she was aware he hadn't done it alone. There had been others, some of them human and some not, some with strange powers and some without—

She went still, and looked at Diana again. Had there been a woman among them? Mera didn't know. All that had mattered to her when she'd learned of it had been that Arthur had done it, proven himself.

Diana looked back at her, and said quietly, "I think you will be, Mera. I think there is very little you could decide to do to which you would not prove equal."

Mera bit her lip, and reached out, and touched Diana's face. And Diana didn't stop her.

It was a way of making her hopes real, of proving to herself that she believed in them: that she would not be given to Orm, or if she was that it would not last. That she would succeed somehow, and be free to make her own choices. That she could do wild daring things, things like walk up onto the surface and make Arthur face his destiny, and that she might be rewarded for them.

But it was also Diana: Diana and her sweet dark eyes, the steady open way she looked at Mera. Her strength, her calm, her care. How unhesitatingly she'd extended her hand, and how easy it had been to take it.

Mera kissed her cheek first, cautious, testing. Gratitude for Diana's gracious words, if that was all Diana wished it to be.

And Diana allowed it. Diana allowed it, and let her eyes fall shut, reached up and ran her fingertips up the inside of Mera's wrist where Mera was still touching her face; and then she turned into the brush of Mera's mouth and kissed her in return.

Mera shivered. She understood dimly that her heart was pounding, her skin hot. The waves that lapped up around her hips were glowing blue-white and curling away from her—reaching for Diana, splashing their way shyly up to Diana's waist—

She broke away, and cleared her throat. "I should—I must go back. I'll be missed." She risked a glance. "But you're very kind to say such things, and I'll remember them. I'll remember you."

Diana smiled. "That's as much as I could ask," she said quietly, and then paused. Her mouth, Mera thought dimly, was very red now. "But I can't let you go without saying that I hope this won't be the last time I see you, Y'Mera Xebella Challa."

Mera swallowed, and turned her wrist in Diana's hand—met Diana's palm with her own, and held on. "It won't be," she said, and decided then and there to make sure it was true.

"All right," Diana said, and let go.

Mera didn't want to stand, didn't want to have to walk away from her, a clumsy surface motion she'd have hated anyway. She drew the waves up toward her, over her, instead; the water lit up bright and covered her, and she was lifted up by it and let herself be pulled away.

She swam for some way, and then she let herself come up again to break the surface.

She'd thought Diana might have gone. She had braced herself for it. But she looked, and there was still a figure on the shore: Diana, damp in the moonlight, hair dripping, standing there tall and watching her go.


End file.
